Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

DYLAN

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He was about to lean closer again for another kiss when the elevator bell went off, followed by the opening of the door.

That sound coming from the elevator was enough to disperse the spell surrounding us. My mind was clear this time, and I know for sure that this isn’t right.

“W–We’re here,” I broke the silence, but his remained fixated on me.

I pressed my palms against his broad chest, gently pushing him away. But he didn’t move an inch. His arms remained wrapped around my waist, and his hard, growing member pressed against my belly.

“H–Hunter…” I called him out, assuming he didn’t hear what I said despite us being so close that I could even hear my heart beating erratically.

He moved his head towards the tiny space in between my neck and buried his face against my skin.

I gasped for air as soon as his warm lips touched my neck.

“Hmm… I love the sound of my name coming out of your mouth,” he moaned. Its vibration was sending shivers through every fiber of my being. “You smell so good,” he whispered.

I chuckled, “Of course it is. That’s your body wash.”

“No. It smells different on you.”

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“Different how?” I asked him curiously.

He lifted his head and looked me straight in the eyes before he replied, “It’s intoxicating.”

I gulped as I watched his eyes darken while staring at me. He looks like a predator ready to devour its prey.

“Fuck!”

I was startled when he cursed loudly. He then took a step back and finally put some distance between us. He turned around and stepped out of the elevator, leaving me inside with my mind filled with confusion.

Is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?

Somehow, the thought of him getting pissed at me scared me. I don’t think I can take another rejection after what happened between Beckett and me.

I suddenly felt the urge to leave this place as soon as possible. I don’t like how I feel around this man. He was practically a stranger, yet I feel the warmth that I haven’t felt in a while.

I lowered my head as I twiddled with my fingers, waiting for the elevator door to close.

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Chapter 22

“You’re waiting for something?” His deep voice pulled me out of my self–pity. I lifted my head and saw his beautiful smile. And somehow, that simple smile banished all the self–doubt I was torturing myself with. “If you wanted to be carried back to my penthouse, you can just say so,” he teased.

“Y–You’re not mad?” I asked as I slowly stepped out of the elevator.

He frowned as he gently reached for my hand. “Kindly enlighten me: why would I be mad at you?”

“Y–You cursed at me,” I pouted my lips as I lowered my head.

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I felt his fingers on my chin as he gently lifted my face to meet his. “You’re not a fan of cursing, I assume?” He said with a playful smile tugging on his lips.

“It’s not that,” I repeated softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.

That I was scared.

That I was still haunted by the ghost of someone else’s rejection.

And somehow, I didn’t want him to be another scar.

Hunter watched me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to read all the words I couldn’t say aloud. Then, with a soft sigh, he let his hand fall away–but not before giving my fingers a gentle

squeeze.

“No cursing for me then,” he chuckled.

I looked at me with an amused look. I can’t believe how this man can easily adjust to my needs without begging me to. I stared at him, blinking in disbelief. I’m used to begging for attention. I can’t remember how many times I’ve found myself begging him to change things that accept me. Yet, this man was willing to change a habit just to please me.

A small laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“You’re unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head.

He grinned, a boyish, crooked grin that made something deep inside me flutter.

“Unbelievably charming, right?” he teased.

I shook my head again, but the smile stayed on my face.

It felt good. Strange, but good.

Without even realizing it, I fell into step beside him as we walked down the quiet hallway. The tension that once strangled my chest loosened with every step.

When we reached the end of the corridor, he paused in front of the door to his penthouse.

Hunter pressed his palm against a small scanner by the door, and with a soft beep, the lock clicked open. He looked back over his shoulder at me, his eyes meeting mine with a silent invitation. Then, like a true

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Chapter 22

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gentleman, he pushed the door open wider, waiting for me to step inside first.

As I crossed the threshold, a quiet calm settled over me. It wrapped around my tired heart like a warm blanket. For the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe.

It was strange, really–how this place, his home, could feel safer than anywhere else. Especially after everything that had happened today. And yet, here I was, standing in the home of a man I barely knew, feeling like I’d finally found somewhere I belonged.

It didn’t make sense.

He was still a stranger, wasn’t he? I didn’t know where he came from or what his intentions were. But somehow, just being near him brought peace to the storm raging inside me.

Still, as I looked around, my thoughts were anything but settled. There was something about Hunter that gnawed at the back of my mind. A strange familiarity in the way he looked at me. In the little things he did. The way he always seemed to know what I was feeling–before I even said a word.

It was something else.

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More than once, he’d spoken or acted like we’d known each other far longer than a day. Like there was history between us that only he remembered. I tried to dig through my memories, hoping to find even a single thread that connected us.

But there was nothing. No face from the past that matched his.

So why did it feel like he already knew me?

That thought terrifies me, yet comforts me at the same time.

“I have a few matters to take care of. Please help yourself around the house,” he said before he walked over to

his table.

I nodded in agreement before looking around his pad. The whole place was plain and dark. You can’t see any color other than white, black, and gray. I was looking for something to busy myself with, but I’m afraid to touch anything without his permission.

In the end, I decided to sit on the couch and check my phone. I haven’t checked it since last night.

The thought of my mom and dad, probably worried sick about me, made my chest tighten. I had left my old phone behind at Beckett’s house, along with every piece of my old life.

I only used the landline back in my parents‘ old apartment to make a few calls while looking for a job.

I twisted my fingers nervously before gathering the courage to speak.

“C–Can I use your phone?” I asked, my voice small. “I’d like to check on my parents.”

Hunter sat at the office table, a sleek silver laptop open in front of him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his long fingers flying over the keys.

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Chapter 22

Without looking up, he answered, “Go ahead.”

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I bit my lip, standing there awkwardly for a moment before spotting the black cordless phone resting on a side table. I hurried over, picking it up carefully like it was something precious, and plopped back down onto the couch.

Taking a deep breath, I dialed my mother’s phone number. I don’t know if they already know about what happened back in the apartment.

A few rings had passed before I heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello?” My mother’s familiar voice floated through the line, thick with worry.

“Mom… it’s me.”

“Dylan, sweetheart! Thank goodness!” she cried. I could hear her relief pouring through the phone. “Where are you? Are you safe? We heard about what happened in the apartment. We’ve been so worried! We should have warned you about them. We know it’s not safe to stay there, but we have nowhere else to go. That’s why I was trying my best to check if we can get some money here for us to find a new place.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m okay, Mom. I’m safe. I’m… staying with a friend for now.” I glanced at Hunter, who still hadn’t looked up but whose presence somehow made me feel less alone.

“Dylan!” This time it was my father’s voice. I can sense something else in his voice. He sounds angry, but I can sense a hint of fear in his voice.

“Dad, I’m okay—”

“What the hell have you been up to?” he exclaimed.

“Dad, I don’t understand. What do you mean by that?”

“It’s all over the news, Dylan! You’ve been dating Mr. De Marco! He’s bad news, Dylan. He’s dangerous!”

“What? Dad, wait. Calm down. Who told you about Hunter?” I asked, frowning in confusion, pressing the phone tighter against my ear as I sat upright on the couch.

I turned my head toward Hunter’s direction, finding his eyes already locked on me. He wasn’t typing anymore. His fingers had stilled on the keyboard. The second I mentioned his name, I must have caught his

attention.

“It’s all over the news, Dylan. It’s on TV, social media, online articles–everywhere. Pictures of you and him entering that high–rise building on Fifty–Seventh Street,” my father continued, his voice hard but shaken. “Tell me the truth, Dylan. Are you with him?”

I blinked fast, trying to make sense of what he just said. News? Pictures? Internet? My pulse started to race.

“Wait… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, standing up quickly. “Hold on, okay? Just stay on the

line.”

Without thinking, I strode toward Hunter, my bare feet padding softly over the polished wood floor. He didn’t

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stop me when I reached his table and didn’t say a word when I snatched the laptop from under his hands and turned it to face me. My fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in both our names into the search bar.

He remained still beside me, his presence quiet yet intense. The glow of the screen lit up our faces as I leaned slightly forward, his warmth brushing up against my side as I hovered close. I could feel the air shift between us, thick with questions and unspoken things. But I tried my best to ignore it and focus on the matter at hand.

And then I pressed Enter.

The screen flooded with headlines.

“Hunter Gage De Marco and Mystery Woman Spotted at His Private Residence!”

“Tech Billionaire Engaged to Unknown Beauty?!”

“Who Is The Woman Who Stole Hunter Gage’s Heart?”

There were dozens—no, hundreds–of articles already out. Pictures of us stepping into his building, side by side. The warmth of his jacket draped over my shoulders. His hand rested lightly on the small of my back. His protective stance in front of the elevator. Every image seemed to scream intimacy.

My heart pounded louder as I scrolled through the chaos. And then, the kicker:

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